High Intensity (31 page)

"Yes, you."

The blankets rustled. Tyber poked his head out from under the covers, his chestnut hair very tousled. "I think I have a headache."

"Perhaps it was the five stouts?"

"You think? I rather thought it was the tequila chasers."

"Tequila chasers? When did you have those?" She tried to sit up in the bed; he yanked her back down.

"No sudden movements, baby. When you went to the restroom, Junior put up the bet: How many could we down before you got back? He thought four, but, knowing you as well as I do, I said six. I won… or lost, whichever way you want to look at it."

"So that was what all that cheering was about?"

"Nnnn…" His head dropped back onto the mattress.

"I can't believe you had six tequilas! You never even drink, except for wine and cognac." Her hand slapped down on the bed, bouncing the mattress.

Tyber winced. "It was worth it. Junior loosened up after the fourth one. Told me lots of interesting things." He rubbed his cheek against her leg in a silent plea for sympathy. And whatever else he could get.

She frowned down at him. "I'm not sure whether I should be giving you sympathy or not."

"I think you should." He nipped her calf.

She crossed her arms over her chest. Six tequilas! She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. The man was a veritable dynamo on six tequilas. Of course, Tyber was always a… love force. Must be his knowledge of physics, she reasoned. "So what did Junior divulge?"

He wagged his finger at her. "Uh-uh. I'm keeping that to myself."

Her mouth fell open "Why?"

"Because you did not go through the initiation of the Brotherhood of the Worm." He tugged the pillow over his head.

She gasped. "You didn't, Tyber!"

"Hmf," came from under the pillow.

Zanita lifted the edge of the pillow; he squinted at her through bleary eyes. "Tell me you didn't."

"I didn't. But Junior did. Was rather surprised he didn't start seeing ghosts."

"And you won't tell me what he said?" She tried her pouting, "get Tyber" look.

"Nope." He grinned at her. "But you look awfully cute, Curls." He lifted his head and kissed her fast.

She blinked, then shoved him back down on the bed, ignoring the pain-wracked groan that followed. "You brat! I have a right to know!"

"I love driving you crazy." He smiled wanly as he rubbed his forehead.

She fumed down at him. "Tell me."

"Uh-uh."

Her violet eyes narrowed and a blast of exhalation flared her nostrils. "You're only doing this to torment me!"

"Of course. Why else would I do it?" Tyber snuggled back cozily into the pillows.

"You… !"

He opened his arms wide and whispered, "C'mere."

They arrived back at Todd's inn in the afternoon.

Sitting in the parlor, looking very nasty, was Zanita's best friend. "Mills! What are you doing here?"

Mills jerked her thumb in the direction of the kitchen. At that moment Gregor and Cody sauntered out with identical smirks on their identically handsome faces. "He is a golem, I swear! Tyber, please," she beseeched him. "Tell him to stop."

Tyber frowned. "What is he doing?"

"Well… nothing I can put my finger on. I think the two of them have something cooked up. Cody keeps showing up at my house and shop."

"You don't want Cody around?"

She hesitated. "I didn't say that exactly."

Zanita snorted. "You're crazy about that kid, admit it, Mills. You love when he bugs you."

Her shoulders slumped. "All right. I admit it. But then he shows up to get him."

"Well, he is his father." Tyber smiled. "I don't think you can have one without the other."

Mills turned and stared at the wall in a huff. Obviously, she wasn't buying Tyber's theory.

Zanita patted her hand. "Tyber will think of something. You'll see. He's very"—she noted the bit of lace sticking out of the overnight pack— "inventive."

Gregor leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

"Hi, Gregor."

"Hi, Tyber."

"Whatcha doin here, bud?"

"Came to get Cody."

"Uh-huh."

The two of them exchanged a silent laugh.

Zanita rolled her eyes and motioned to Mills to follow her upstairs. "How did Cody get here?" she whispered.

"I don't know." Mills was stone-faced. "I turned around on the ferry and there he was. Of course, it was too late to send him back."

"That's called kidnapping, Mills," a laughing voice teased.

A purse sailed through the air in the direction of Gregor's dark head.

"Ah… I don't think she sees it that way, Gregor. And what was she doing on the ferry in the first place?"

He grinned sexily. "I'm creating an itch."

"A little advice. This is not the perfect way to woo a woman. Generally, when a woman indicates that she can't stand the very air you breathe, it's a pretty good indication that she doesn't want to be followed to
Martha's Vineyard
. Or scratch any itches."

"You think so?" Gregor pushed away from the wall. "Nothing wrong with making a woman feel like she wants to… scratch." He winked at Tyber. "I thought I'd put some pepper in her salt."

"Somehow I don't think Mills is the spice type, Greg."

"You never know." He glanced up the stairs. "Cody adores her."

"How do you feel about her?"

He shrugged noncommittally yet continued to glance upstairs.

"Captain! There you are, ye rapscallion, ye!" Blooey came bustling into the room.
Here we go with the next chapter of lunacy
, Tyber surmised as he rubbed his forehead. Blooey was quickly followed by the aunt in three hats.
Ah, what a simple life I lead
.

"I helped Todd with that fancy dinner ye requested tonight. Made some of that squash soup ye love!"

Oh, joy
. "Ah, thanks, Blooey."

The little pirate squinted his eye. "Are ye gonna put the slap on the ghost tonight, Captain?"

"Aye, sailor, that I am," he murmured.

"Mar-r-r-r-rvelous!" Auntie clapped her hands. "I can't wait to see you show them all what's what!"

Tyber viewed her askance.

"I just have to tell you," those locked jaws announced, "I really think it's a ghost from the Revolution! Or perhaps a Republican." She shrugged fatalistically.

"Ahuh." Tyber responded evenly.

Gregor coughed behind him.

"Why, hello, young man." Auntie viewed him cockeyed through her Elton-Marilyn glasses. "Aren't you the friend who has that brother?" She made poor Stan sound like the relative no one speaks of—not the theoretical physicist he was.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well." She waved her hand, dismissing the topic.

Tyber massaged his temple to clear the static.

"That creep! I am going to kill him!" bellowed a feminine voice from upstairs.

Tyber turned to Gregor, saying blandly, "I think she is going to scratch the itch, pal, but not in the way you intended."

"She must have found that little gift I slipped in her coat pocket."

"Hey, Gregor, when do we eat?" Cody yanked on his dad's jeans. "Hi, Tyber! Where's Hambone? Can I play with him? Blooey says he's a scall-wag. What's that? Is that a type of cat? 'Cause I never heard of no scall-wag cat, have you? Gregor, when do we eat?"

Tyber shook his head in an attempt to retune the station. "You know, I believe Zanita needs me for… something." He started backing toward the stairs. Rapidly. "See you all at dinner. Remember, dress to the nines." He turned and mounted the stairs—three at a time.

"What's 'dress to the nines' mean?" Cody screwed up his face.

Gregor shrugged. "Damned if I know."

"Well, I think it means we all spruce up like they did on the Titanic!" Auntie beamed with excitement.

"That ship went down," Gregor pointed out.

They all assembled at the stroke of eight in the dining room for what was sure to be the strangest meal any of them had ever had.

Per instructions, everyone had donned the best of what they had brought with them, making an oddly dressed assemblage around the table, to say the least. Mark and Todd had lent out several of their jackets and ties. Blooey had wrapped his best kerchief around his head—to him, formal pirate regalia. Gregor and Cody had ties on over their T-shirts. Even Hambone looked spiffed up for the occasion; his usual motley fur was for once slicked down smooth. He grinned at Zanita, proudly showing her his several missing teeth.

Calendula, of course, looked lovely, as she always did. The other three ladies present had done very well dressing up their casual outfits.

Tyber, at the head, glanced over the table. All in all, he thought, we look like escapees from the nut factory trying to appear okay for the main event.

He had specifically arranged the seating placements. Zanita was to his right, followed by Calendula, Auntie, Hubble, and Sasenfras, who shocked everyone by appearing in actual black tie, although the tux was moldy and moth-eaten. Todd was at the other end of the table. Following the circle around, Cody was next, then Gregor, Mills, and rounding out with Mark on Tyber's left side.

He had purposely seated the guests in this fashion for the drama that was about to evolve.

Mills glanced over at Gregor, not at all happy to be seated next to him. Especially after what he had slipped into her pocket. She viewed him askance and wondered not for the first time if the Mazurskis had Gypsy/Rom blood. It wasn't just his raven hair and green eyes, either. There was a rawness to him just barely contained beneath the thin veil of civility. No one knew what he actually did, if anything. He always seemed to be around, either helping Tyber with his bike or pestering her.

She had no idea why he pestered her.

As far as she could tell, it made no sense. The few outrageous snippets of information she was able to glean about him did not bear thinking about. He was a mystery, and in that regard alone, her curiosity was slightly piqued.

A snore came from under the table.

Zanita peeked under the tablecloth. It was a well placed Hippolito, in ecstasy, no doubt, from being under all the food. He was stretched out in the center of the floor, feet stuck up in the air. The pink tongue was hanging out like kitty flypaper. She chuckled.

Tyber took his seat, motioning to Todd to serve the first course.

"You know," Zanita whispered to him, "this reminds me of something…"

"Does it?" His lips curved slightly into a mysterious smile.

"Yes. I just can't think of what it is."

Tyber winked at her and addressed the group. "I gathered everyone here on this, our last night together, so that we could all see what, if anything, we have uncovered this weekend."

Everyone seemed interested in that statement.

Calendula was the first to offer an assessment of the investigation. "Well, from what Mark and I have seen, I believe this to be a genuine occurrence of paranormal activity."

Tyber placed his palms together, steepling his fingers. "Is that so?"

"Yes. The reading and impressions I received cannot be anything but genuine."

Hubble snorted from his place down the line.

Annoyed, Calendula turned to confront Hubble. "How can you possibly explain away all of the uncanny events we have witnessed?"

Before he could respond, Tyber answered for him. "He can't."

She smiled at him.

"But I can."

The smile died on her face.

"Are you sure you can?" Zanita whispered in an aside.

"I think so, baby. Bear with me." He addressed the group. "Let's take the jet-propelled kitchen gadgets first. If you recall, I remarked that they all seemed to follow the same trajectory."

"But you said you didn't find anything at the top of those stairs," Mark interjected.

"I misstated. I did find something; I just didn't want everyone to know about it."

"Is that fair? I don't think that's fair," Mark groused.

"What did you find, Tyber?" Calendula asked.

"A secret passageway at the top of the library staircase. I knew right away that was where the implements were coming from; they were being hurled from behind that hidden door."

"By whom?" several asked.

"I'll get to that. The next day, Zanita and I went into the passage and discovered our way almost blocked with webs. The natural assumption would be that the passage had not been traveled down for ages, and that whoever threw the gadgets could not have been down the tunnel, either, without breaking those webs. But that was not quite true."

"Why not, Captain?" Blooey leaned forward, already into the fetchingly lurid tale.